Japhet, in Search of a Father eBook

I gave the letter to the valet, and calling a coach
drove to the office, and in less than five minutes
afterwards was rolling away to Holyhead, felicitating
myself upon my promptitude and decision, little imagining
to what the step I had taken was to lead.

It was a very dark night in November when I started
on my expedition. There were three other passengers
in the mail, none of whom had yet spoken a word, although
we had made several miles of our journey. Muffled
up in my cloak, I indulged in my own reveries as usual,
building up castles which toppled over one after another
as I built and rebuilt again. At last one of
the passengers blew his nose, as if to give warning
that he was about to speak; and then inquired of the
gentleman next him if he had seen the evening newspapers.
The other replied in the negative. “It
would appear that Ireland is not in a very quiet state,
sir,” observed the first.

“Did you ever read the history of Ireland?”
inquired the other.

“Not very particularly.”

“Then, sir, if you were to take that trouble,
you will find that Ireland, since it was first peopled,
never has been in a quiet state, nor perhaps ever
will. It is a species of human volcano—­always
either smoking, burning, or breaking out into eruptions
and fire.”

“Very true, sir,” replied the other.
“I am told the White Boys are mustering in large
numbers, and that some of the districts are quite
impassable.”

“Sir, if you had travelled much in Ireland,
you would have found out that many of the districts
are quite impassable, without the impediment of the
White Boys.”

“You have been a great deal in Ireland then,
sir,” replied the other.

“Yes, sir,” said the other with a consequential
air, “I believe I may venture to say that I
am in charge of some of the most considerable properties
in Ireland.”

“Lawyer—­agent—­five per
cent.—­and so on,” muttered the third
party, who sate by me, and had not yet spoken.

There was no mistaking him—­it was my former
master, Mr Cophagus; and I cannot say that I was very
well pleased at this intimation of his presence, as
I took it for granted that he would recognise me as
soon as it was daylight. The conversation continued,
without any remarks being made upon this interruption
on the part of Mr Cophagus. The agent, it appeared,
had been called to London on business, and was returning.
The other was a professor of music bound to Dublin
on speculation. What called Mr Cophagus in that
direction I could not comprehend; but I thought I
would try and find out, I therefore, while the two
others were engaged in conversation, addressed him
in a low tone of voice. “Can you tell me,
sir, if the College at Dublin is considered good for
the instruction of surgical pupils?”

“Country good, at all events plenty of practice—­broken
heads—­and so on.”